


Knowing Is Enough

by kawaiiboy



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alex and George are bros, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, M/M, Sonny has a crush on George but who doesn't, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiiboy/pseuds/kawaiiboy
Summary: If Barba is wearing the same shirt as yesterday and Huang is walking a little funny, no one says a word.





	

The first time they fuck it’s after Muñoz’s fall from glory at the hands of his childhood best friend. Barba is drunk and guilty and Huang isn’t exactly sober himself so they fuck on the couch in his office and its slick and wet and hot and perfect. Rafael wants to take and George is more than willing to give, so he takes and takes and _takes_ til dawn. When his secretary finds them curled up on the couch half-dressed with an empty bottle of scotch on the floor she doesn’t wake them. Just turns the coffee pot on and leaves. If Barba is wearing the same shirt as yesterday and Huang is walking a little funny, no one says a word. 

(They don’t talk about it.)

 

“You could have died,” George hisses against the shell of his ear because he really could have, because a bullet barely missed his head on the courthouse steps, because George had to hear about it on the news and stormed into his office all fire and fear and hunger. He pushes him against his own desk, kissed him til both of them are breathless. “Don’t do it again,” he says like its Barba’s fault and maybe it is and maybe it’s the fifth time they’ve fucked or the fifteenth but George’s hands are removing his belt and George’s mouth is around his cock and all he can think of is the tight hot wetness as he grips his hands in the shrink’s hair and swears he’ll never do it again. 

(They never talk about that either.)

He doesn’t know exactly how he gets his address, maybe Liv, but he has it and he’s at the door with veggie soup and a cheeseburger because the doctor is a vegetarian and he is fucking not. But George is sick so he’s checking up on his co-worker/fuck buddy because it’s the not-asshole thing to do and honestly, the squad room just isn’t as fun when he’s not around. Huang answers the door in a T-shirt, his nose red, his eyes glossy, but that fucking smirk is still there. “I’m not hungry,” he says as if he knows it’s exactly what the attorney doesn’t want to hear. “Too bad,” Barba says and fucks him against his kitchen counter. “That soup better be gone when I get back,” he snarls because he’s so deep inside him and the doctor is panting and mewling and fucking divine and he figures he can get away with talking shit. But then George clenches around him and fuck he can’t even hide how much he loves it. 

When he gets back George is asleep on the couch, the soup half gone. Rafael carries him to bed and locks the door behind him. 

(They don’t talk about that either even though they probably should.) 

“I know what trauma can do,” he says softly, “It makes you feel like a ghost.” “You’re alive,” Rafael counters. “Let me show you.” So they fuck slow and lazy and languid, their hands splayed against each other’s in a bed for once, so close they don’t know where one ends and the other begins and maybe that’s the point. And maybe George is more damaged than Rafael realizes but aren’t they all? And maybe fuck buddies don’t show up at each other’s houses after a particularly bad case and tenderly kiss and caress for hours at a time but they do. And it’s just them, not the attorney and the shrink, but Rafael and George finding each other and themselves, the room too hot for a New York winter.

(If one of them wakes up and is pleasantly surprised the other is still there, they don’t say anything.)

He fucks it up. Of course he does. They’d just finished fucking and Rafael is saying something and George replies and now they’re arguing. And Barba isn’t even sure what it is exactly they’re arguing about, he just knows he’s right. George is saying something about sex work and Barba makes a poorly timed joke about Huang practically being a sex worker and it probably wasn’t the best place or time because Huang is throwing his clothes on faster than Rafael had pulled them off and fuck fuck fuck he may actually be upset. “George,” he says and holy shit the man’s eyes are black as night and maybe even a little misty and _holy fucking shit I like you_ he thinks, but George is already gone. 

(They don’t talk about this or anything else for a long time.) 

George almost dies or maybe not. Maybe the perp just wanted to take a swing at him and thought he could get away with it because people often forget that him being small and cute doesn’t negate the fact that he’s a trained FBI agent. So Liv took a coffee break and when she came back the perp was on the floor and Huang was wiping blood from his lips as if nothing happened. When Barba waltzes into the squad room Huang is sitting on Carisi’s desk as the rookie flocks around him like some love-struck mother hen. And there are so many jokes Barba can make right now but he doesn’t because George’s cheek is swollen and his knuckles are bruised, his hair ruffled in way that shouldn’t be attractive and he can’t deny that he’s a little annoyed that Carisi just said something to make him smile. _I’m sorry_ Barba wants to say _I’m an ass, I know_ and _please give me another chance_ but he doesn’t because Huang turns to look at him and his smile fades and fuck it shouldn’t hurt but it does. “A word doctor?” he says instead and Huang for all his justified residual anger just nods and follows him into an interview room. 

“Holy shit!” Carisi says because they’re kissing now and everyone can see them through the blinds and at the exclamation both men look up, caught. 

(Now they have to talk about it.)

 

So they grab dinner together and grab breakfast and coffee and practically live in each other’s apartments and try to piece together a relationship. Except to Rafael it’s not enough because they both work like dogs and more often than not for weeks at a time Rafael returns to an empty bed at some ridiculous hour and only sees George when he testifies or when they’re both called down to the squad room or during quick fucks which are fantastic yes but not exactly what he had in mind for the whole relationship thing. So one summer evening they’re eating takeout on Barba’s terrace and George is in one of his T-shirts and boxer briefs and he’s smoking a cigarette, his hair cutely ruffled, looking angelic and at peace. “Move in with me,” Rafael says because he’s not asking. George freezes immediately, smoke falling from his lips, looking like a caged fawn in the trap of a patient hunter. Seconds tick by painfully slow and Rafael waits, a forkful of noodles suspended on the way to his mouth. “Okay,” George says and flicks his cigarette over the edge. Rafael is stunned and it isn’t until George slips into his lap like he belongs there that he wonders when it got so damn easy.

(Of course later on they argue about how many books George can possibly have and how many ties Rafael actually needs but for now it’s nice.)

“Jeez doc are you pregnant?” Olivia asks only half-joking because the doctor just puked in Rollin’s trash can much to the blonde’s dismay. Barba, en route to the coffee pot, stops and catches his gaze from across the room. They’re both thinking of that time, month’s ago, Barba’s birthday, when they fucked in his office and again in his bed and the next morning on the island in his kitchen and not once did they use a condom. But it was ok because they’d been together long enough and George was on birth control and male pregnancy was rare anyway. Still Rafael buys five pregnancy tests when they get off work and practically forces a gallon of water down the shrink’s throat and they sit on the floor of George’s bathroom and watch each individual stick turn blue. Then Huang is going off on a tangent in Mandarin and its shouldn’t be funny because Barba should be freaking out but he’s laughing his ass off instead because he knows exactly what George is saying even though he doesn’t know a lick of Chinese. 

(They decide to keep it without saying a word.)

George gives up cigarettes. He gives up liquor. He gives up being as active in the field. “No,” he says when Barba tells him he should stop drinking coffee. The attorney is halfway through weaving a very convincing argument about the effects of caffeine on unborn babies and Huang is ready to cite just as many arguments about why that’s not true but instead he says, “I’ll give it up if you do.” So they both do and its hell, especially for Rafael who knocks back at least four cups a day and to make matters worse George goes to a conference in D.C. and Rafael didn’t realize how much he got used to not sleeping alone til he had to do it again. That and the withdrawal headaches and the increased irritability make him a bitch to work with. 

“Oh thank god,” Olivia groans when George walks into the squad room. “I could have shot him,” she says and he follows her line of sight to Barba who is sitting at the conference table, tapping his foot and checking his phone and adjusting his tie, practically vibrating, all while verbally accosting Carisi and Rollins. George sighs fondly, walks over to the coffee pot and pours a cup. Then he walks over to the side of the attorney’s chair. Barba’s face immediately looks ten times more relaxed when he sees him. He grabs George’s hand and then caresses the swelling baby bump and watches George take a sip before laying the cup on the table next to Rafael’s blackberry. “Drink this before Liv shoots you,” he says and Rafael doesn’t have to be told twice.

(They both decide they can have two cups a day.)

“We find the defendant guilty.” The courtroom erupts. Olivia is patting him on the back and Fin is making some smart ass comment that’s actually supposed to be a compliment and he checks his phone to see four missed calls, two from George, one from Rollins and one from Carisi. He’s fielding press questions when Olivia rushes up him, her face one of excitement and panic. “Rafael,” she says and oh shit he knows exactly what she’s going to say but he still needs her to say it. “He’s going into labor,” she says. He doesn’t realize he’s sprinting until Olivia is running after him and being friends with cops has its benefits because he gets a police escort to the hospital. Then he’s there, in the room and George is swearing his ass off, cursing him and everything under the sun in a flurry of languages and all Rafael can do is kiss his forehead and hold his hand because fuck they’re going to be parents. 

(George almost breaks Rafael’s hand and Cabot nearly faints but otherwise it’s an easy birth.) 

George is asleep and the squad has gone home, so it’s just him and her. He croons to her, this child, _his_ child, this perfect mix of both he and George. She has George’s slick black hair, Rafael’s nose, George’s lips, his forehead. But her eyes, a perfect mix of green and brown. “Mi cariño,” he says in awe, gently rocking her in his arms, and she looks up at him curiously as if she knows that he is important but doesn’t quite know why. “Well your daddy did all the work,” he murmurs to her sheepishly, “but I helped. See your dad and me? We love you more than anything, more than each other, and that’s saying something because I love him so much.” He pauses with the sudden hysterical realization that he’s never told George he loved him. Ever. How could that happen? They have a child together for god’s sake. 

George wakes up after several urges from his baby daddy, to see him holding their daughter with a wild and guilty look and honestly George thinks, he should have known better to not leave him to his own devices with their infant. “What?” he says because he’s exhausted (pushing a kid out of you will do that). “George,” Rafael says, “I love you.” And if anything, Rafael isn’t expecting some hallmark moment. But he does expect some happy surprise, a shift in facial expression at least. But George just knits his brow as if he’s confused. “I know Rafael,” he says and yawns. “Is that all?” 

“Is that all?” Rafael repeats and he would be louder if their daughter hadn’t just fallen asleep in his arms. So instead he whisper-screams which isn’t nearly as effective as he would like. “What do you mean? I love you George and I’m saying it now for the first time. Ever.” “You don’t have to say something for me to know it,” George counters with all his usual calm wisdom and Rafael wonders how he got so lucky. 

(Later when the baby is being given a bath by a nurse and Rafael is holding George in the hospital bed, George looks at him and says, “Rafael I—” but the attorney silences him with a kiss then softly says, “I know.” 

They both learn some things they never have to talk about.)

**Author's Note:**

> First fic ever! Comments greatly appreciated


End file.
